


The Forest Trap

by ecrituredudesir



Category: Original Work
Genre: Beating, Blood, Crushing, Death, Gore, Other, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 01:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrituredudesir/pseuds/ecrituredudesir
Summary: A deer, a wolf, and a cat lure a sergal into the woods. He doesn't make it out alive.(A commission for someone on furaffinity.)





	The Forest Trap

The group of anthros, all men of different species, had approached him that afternoon when he’d been enjoying a cup of coffee at the local diner. The deer was vaguely familiar, but his friends, a large wolf and cat anthro pair that looked almost terrifyingly muscular, weren’t. But they played the part of all looking rather concerned, and before he knew it, the sergal was standing from his seat to help them.

Under the pretense of needing help for their friend, claiming that there was an injured panda in the woods that he knew as well, the group had lead him into the forest near the town. He did in fact know a panda, a sweet girl that had spoken to him a handful of times, and confirming that he did know her, he was quick to rush into the forest after them. He didn’t know what might have happened to the panda, but there was clear concern written across his face. 

It was there for all of a few seconds, until the first blow landed fiercely against the back of his head. The cat had been the one to lash out, slamming his open palm into the back of the sergal’s head to send him to the ground, leaving a bloody trail of scrapes from his claws on the way down. The sergal yelped in pain, stumbling forward a few feet before the wolf lashed out as well, kicking him at just the right angle in the back of his knees to make his weight collapse on them, his legs folding as he hit the ground. 

“You think we wouldn’t notice you hitting on our friend’s girl?” The cat nearly purred, his green eyes bright with more than just a lighthearted mischief. There was scorn in his gaze, a harsh look that made him seem much darker than most would guess. It clicked for the sergal then—he remembered the deer hanging out with the panda, the same panda that had been smiling and flirting with him for the last couple of weeks, and he hadn’t realized the two were dating. 

“Wa-wait, I didn’t mean anything by it, I didn’t know she was seeing someone!” He protested, feeling the hot trail of blood running down his neck from where the cat had scraped his scalp. His knees ached, the nerves shooting lightening hot signals of pain from the way the wolf had hit him right in the vulnerable spot, though his eyes were rolling quickly to look at his three assailants. 

The deer scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer as the startled, vulnerable sergal’s breath hitched in his throat, very clearly reacting in fear as he flinched back from the three. “Please,” he continued, finally looking to the deer. “I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have done it if I had known, I’m sorry.” It was clear he realized he was severely outmatched—especially with the size of the deer, and the vicious, sharp claws that he could see both the wolf and the cat sporting. 

Thinking that the deer would be the most merciful out of all of them if he just pleaded to him, the Sergal scuffled lower, trying to take a stance that would defend the most sensitive of his body from the blows of the cat and wolf. Before he could, however, the deer that he had thought would be merciful reared back and kicked forward swiftly into his jaw. He felt a tooth crack against another as the tip of his tongue was caught between his teeth, severing just the tip and making the taste of blood spill through his mouth as he let out a howl of pain. His tongue convulsed, the muscle in shock from the sudden trauma, though the momentum of the deer’s kick splayed the sergal flat on the ground. He could hear the wolf let out a loose, growly sort of laughter that suggested he was enjoying the display more than anything. 

The wolf and the cat finally moved in, grabbing his arms so the sergal couldn’t block anything. They held him up, restraining him while the deer moved forward. “Why were you talking to her?” the deer demanded, his eyes sharp with venom.

“I didn’t know,” the sergal choked out again, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have any idea she was seeing someone, I would have never talked to her.” With the tip of his tongue missing, his words were skewed and slurred, not properly enunciated though they could all tell he was pleading.

“Liar,” the deer, snapped, pulling back to land a hard punch against the sergal’s jaw, hitting right against the fractured tooth, which shattered, making the sergal sob as blood poured from his mouth. 

“Please, please, I’m sorry-“ The sergal gasped, each word slipping free between wheezes of pain and grunts as the deer pulled back, slamming a few punches into his stomach. Each one felt like they jostled the sergal’s organs, but weren’t doing major damage beyond bruising… yet. 

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear any more excuses. You’re gonna pay.” There was a finality in the deer’s voice that terrified the sergal, like the deer had already made up his mind and that there was going to be no mercy, no wiggle room, nothing but the pain that the sergal wasn’t going to be able to defend himself against. As if to prove the sergal’s worst fear, the deer pulled back, and kicked forward against the front of his legs. From the way he’d had them slightly bent forward being held up by the wolf and cat, it slammed his leg down at an odd angle, not bending backwards—but because of the instant pressure in place, it shattered the kneecap that he brought the hard hoof down on.

The sergal immediately howled in pain, squirming his upper body enough that the wolf and the cat couldn’t hold on anymore—so instead of bothering to try, they hauled back and threw him hard to the ground. He landed hard against a tree root, feeling something painful crack in his upper shoulder—probably a fracture, but at the same time, he wasn’t given the breather to try and figure out what the actual damage was, because as quickly as they tossed him to the ground, the cat set in on him. Even if the cat had the sharpest claws he’d ever felt, he didn’t use them, instead curling his hand into a fist and pulling back to deliver a brutal punch to the middle of the sergal’s face. He could feel the bridge of his nose give a sickening crack, and he was relatively certain the cartilage there had broken, but what was worse was the way his head jerked back, rebounding off of the hard ground like a basketball on concrete. He swore he felt an uncomfortable, sickening slosh in his skull that made him think his very brain had bounced against the inside of the bone there—and it probably had. It wasn’t helped when the deer grabbed one of his ears, using it as leverage to lift upwards, then slam it a second, then a third time down into the same root until his eyes nearly crossed.

Everything went fuzzy for a moment. It was a brief relief from the pain he was feeling, the dirt grinding into the scrapes on the back of his head, and even worse, the way his torn skin and fur tore against one of the tree roots he had fallen on. He choked on a sob, but his mouth didn’t want to work, even if his heart was screaming to plead for mercy. The only reason the deer hadn’t kept going with bouncing his head against the tree root was the fact that he wanted him to suffer through this, to stay conscious and aware for his ‘punishment.’

The three surrounded him, and the first initial blows felt like he was being pelted with fist shaped hail in a hurricane, bruising him and landing so hard that he was sure if he was shaved, his skin would be a coat of nasty purple bruising by the end of the day. He could feel the hot rush of blood that hinted he was swelling in some areas, joints that creaked when he took pressure to them, and just as the blows started to fall off, he thought they were finishing. 

He was wrong. 

There was a rush as the cat kneeled on his left arm, pressing the joint into the ground with one knee grinding into the soft flesh on the inside of his elbow, making him gasp as he felt the pop and squirm of his own veins and muscles crushed on either side of where his elbow bent. Before he could focus on that pain, though, the wolf did the same with his right arm, going as far as to press his other knee into his wrist, pressing it down so hard against a tree root that he swore he could feel the bones strain together there where the arm met palm. He didn’t understand what they were pinning him for, considering he’d only tried to curl up a bit and with the both of them on either side of him, it would be hard for them to continue laying punches in on him. 

Then, with both of them facing his legs, each grabbed one by the knee and pulled up. He was folded in half almost instantly, with each of them having a leg a piece, and he wheezed from the pressure that it put on his lungs and organs. He wasn’t normally that flexible, but they were forcing him to fold, and it was too late that he realized what they planned on doing. The deer produced a pocket knife that he hadn’t expected, and the sergal’s breath started to shorten noticeably into little gasps, trying to squirm, but the more he moved the more the two anthros on either side of him forced him to fold a little more, until his brain went fuzzy again from lack of air rather than the concussion that his fall to the ground and subsequent head-slam had probably caused. 

“Wait-!” the sergal rasped, his eyes wide in the few inches that he could see the deer around his own legs blocking his vision. In the dim lighting of the forest, the blade gleamed, and then the deer knelt with a sneer. 

“Don’t move too much unless you want me to castrate you by accident.” The deer muttered—as if he didn’t actually plan to do anything other with the knife but humiliate the sergal. The sergal took this as a small sign of hope, the shallow breath slipping from him due to the pressure on his chest, and let his movements still lest the blade actually wind up seriously wounding him from all of his struggling. The deer smirked at this, knowing that the sergal was trying to save his own skin but at the same time, was setting himself up for something much worse. 

The blade of the knife was tucked against the sergal’s pants, hitching against the fabric and making a small incision that he dug a little too deep. The sergal yelped in pain as the small blade of the knife punctured the soft, malleable flesh of his ass under where he’d made the incision in his pants. The deer paused as warm blood spilled over the blade, the hilt, and then his fingers. He relished in seeing the red pour over his palm, his eyes narrowing a bit at the sight of it, before he twisted the knife a little deeper into the fatty tissue of the sergal’s ass and thigh. The anthro let out another choked little sound of agony as he did so, writhing as he jerked his hips up to try and get away from the source of the stabbing, but his movement only served to shift and drag the knife to where the small but sharp blade was cutting down into the soft skin. Rolling his eyes as the sergal managed to hurt himself rather than the trio inflicting it, the deer pulled the knife back and folded it away for the time being. The deer then moved in, grabbing the shredded two sides of the sergals pants, before moving back with a firm jerk. The tear of fabric became obvious as the sound echoed into the forest around them, only interrupted by the echoing sounds of the sergal’s pained sobs, as well. His underwear was ripped alongside his pants, and as the deer backed off slowly, ripping the fabric away and exposing the humiliated, bleeding sergal, the deer gave a slow, mocking laugh. 

“You really think you could have done anything, won anyone over with that?” He sneered, making the sergal flush with shame as the deer exposed him. With his two cohorts holding his legs apart, it left him vulnerable and open with his member still sheathed but with his sac hanging between his thighs. “Well, I’m gonna make sure you never ever think about her again,” the deer warned slowly, watching as the blood still dripped from the sergal’s mouth from where they’d severed the tip of his tongue. The sergal’s eyes widened as he struggled again, trying to do anything to slip his legs away so he could close them and offer himself some aspect of protection.

He didn’t move in time, or struggle enough, because the minute the deer stood up and got enough momentum behind his movements, he was pulling back, only to slam the slightly sharp two divides of his hard hooves straight into the exposed ball sack. The sergal’s scream was immediate, but it didn’t hold a pitch for very long. Just as the noise escaped him in something close to a gurgle followed—the immediate gut-pain reaction of getting kicked in the balls had hit him, and immediately he was come over the nausea that followed, turning his head so he didn’t vomit on himself. With his stomach retching, and very little air, he puked to the side from the pain alone. The deer’s nose wrinkled in disgust, watching as his balls started to swell from the trauma of the first kick. 

Rather than give him a second to recover and catch his breath, the deer pulled back for another kick, and then another, slamming into the low hanging sack once more three times until the soft skin nearly ripped, before the deer scoffed. “Lean him up,” he commanded to the cat and the wolf, and the sergal was interrupted from retching violently with his head turned to the side to feel their claws dig into his arms to lift him upwards. The angle that they tilted him at had the deer’s desired effect—rather than hanging uselessly over his ass, the swollen and nearly ruptured balls were now flat against the ground, but not so much that he could sit on them or hide them. The cat and wolf stepped forward, planting their feet on his kneecaps to keep him from closing his legs, and the deer smirked down at his vulnerable position. 

“No-“ The sergal slurred, his head lulling forward as his looked up in agony and dread into the deer’s sneering face. “No, please-“ The please wasn’t properly enunciated, the severed tip of his tongue making the word sound wet with the blood that was still dribbling free in his mouth. He knew what the other was about to do, and that only increased the deer’s pleasure in the fact that he was practically making him watch. 

Using the hard tips of his hooves, the deer stepped forward, placing his foot very carefully against one or the sergal’s balls, before tilting his weight forward down onto the limb. The sergal let out another choked cry from the pressure, but it was different this time—this time instead of pulling back quickly as the deer’s kicks had before, the pain stayed consistent and constant, weighing down on just one of his balls, focusing the pressure on the one spot—until under his hoof, he could feel the sensation like a grape popping, but he knew what it really was. As one of his balls burst in his sack, the sergal let out a genuine, terrified shriek. Before he could potentially let those shouts echo to the town nearby, the wolf pulled back to sock him square in the jaw to cut his noise short. The cry cut off into a sobbing, half-breathing whimper as his jaw hung a little loose, possibly broken from the blow, keeping him from closing it fully. 

“Ah-ah. None of that. You’ve still got one, right?” The deer sneered, nudging the sergal’s remaining ball with his hoof, though the sergal gave startled, agonized little noise. “What, that’s not enough for you?” The deer asked, his voice dropping a few decibels, but the tone was dangerous, and dark. “I’m being kind by leaving you like this, but it’s not enough for you, is it?” 

“W-wai …” The sergal started, breathless and agonized as he tried to clarify that he wasn’t upset, that he wasn’t ungrateful, but before he could even manage to finish his first word, he felt the deer move forwards to press his other hoof down on his remaining ball. 

“I could have left you with this, but you just had to go and be demanding, you spoiled bastard.” He growled. In fear of knowing that he might never be potent again, the sergal gasped and managed to tear one arm free to try and push at the deer’s leg to try and get the pressure off of him, but the deer took offense to the sergal’s hand laying on him, and he snapped out, grabbing the sergal’s ear again to hold him in place before he lifted his foot for just a second to suddenly slam it back down, and just like the first one, the ball popped in the sack under his hoof. 

The sergal made another cry of pain, before he deer’s free hand wrapped around his throat, choking the sound in his voice box and his mouth. The sergal’s noise stopped short, his eyes bulging with the sudden lack of air and the pain, though the deer pushed him back down to the ground as the sergal rolled onto his side to vomit again, dry retching from the pain of his balls all but destroyed, hanging loose and swollen and formless between his bare thighs. 

“Do it,” the deer snarled to the other two, and as the wolf and the cat released his arms and leg fully, leaving his knee caps kicked at and bent awkwardly as they started to lay into them with their fists again. Their blows landed one by one, each doing slightly different damage than the one before. One of the wolf’s fists connected with his side, hitting him in the kidney area, bruising it badly with one calculated blow. It left him breathless and feeling like he had to urinate all at once, but it wasn’t something he could accomplish easily since he didn’t actually have to go. It ached terribly, and for a moment he couldn’t draw breath into his lungs, the ache moving down from his kidney to settle into the very bones of his hips making those throb alongside his destroyed ballsack. 

The next fist that landed on him connected with his gut, punching hard against the soft area that went close to his stomach. He nearly threw up again, but after he’d already purged his stomach twice to the trauma pain resulting from the crushing of his balls, there was nothing left to cough up other than acid. It bruised the organ though, tearing at the insides of it, made worse from the battering of the next two fists that laid out against it. His stomach roiled and rioted against it, building into a bloody froth of acid that burned his throat on the way up. It worked into a froth at the back of his throat, boiling over his parted lips and fangs as he choked on the sounds of pain that slipped from him each time he felt an impact. One of the deer’s harder kicks connected to his rib cage, and the three beating him could hear the clear crack of a noise from the connection of hoof on chest. The blow had left two small punctures in his chest from the sharpness of the tips of his hooves, but the real damage was to the inside. The wolf had fractured one of his ribs with one of the punches to his chest, but it was the deer’s hard kick with his hooves that had completely severed the fractured rib and shoved it inwards, shredding through the tissue and muscles of his chest to drive straight into a lung. The sergal gave a pained wheeze, though that inhale was also his undoing. The sharp, broken tip of the rib was driven sharply inwards with the expansion of his chest, and he immediately felt the puncture of the bone shards and larger rib chunk straight into the swell of his lung as it took in air. There came the feeling of hot blood contrasting the cool air that he was breathing in as it spilled into his rupture of the organ, cutting his noises and whimpers short as he struggled to keep air coming in.

Another punch landed flush against another rib, and he felt the bone crack there as well. Another punch hit his stomach once more, and another surge of acid flooded his esophagus and pushed free from his mouth once more, leaving a sticky, hot trail against the tree root that his head had lulled against. His eyes were lulling upwards, and it seemed he was doing whatever he could to try and check out of the situation that he was starting to believe that he wouldn’t survive. 

“Stay with us now,” the cat snapped, grabbing the back of his head and lifting it to slam against the root. Not hard enough to knock him out, no, but enough to snap him back to reality and to face the fact that there was truly there, that the pain was real and that there was nothing to stop it—only things to make it feel much, much worse. The sergal gave a pathetic wheeze rather than a moan. He couldn’t draw in quite enough air to make the sound come out as anything more vocal, even if every fiber in him was dying to try and plead for one last bit of clemency, for one last moment that would allow him to plead for his life, or to beg for forgiveness from the three that seemed so intent on beating him into less than a pulp on the forest floor. 

Despite his best efforts, though his right lung was collapsing and it was collapsing quickly. He couldn’t get air into his own chest for the blood that would bubble up, and it flooded the back of his throat, then started to pour openly from his broken nose as well, forced out in wet, frothy bubbles. The deer caught sight of this, and he too knew that the sergal’s end was imminent. 

“Roll him over for me,” the deer commanded, standing straight as he leaned back to watch the sergal, who did his best to curl up onto his side into a fetal position, even if all of his limbs ached from the beating and stomping that he’d taken earlier to keep him in place. Unable to fight against the hands that moved to grip his upper arms, the sergal found himself being shifted upwards, before he was then pushed and lurched forward again, this time flat out on his stomach with his face pressed downwards, into the ground. Twigs and the mud made from his own blood and vomit mixed with the dirt pressed against his cheek, and he coughed up a few more flecks of blood ahead of him, remnants and the effects of the rising blood from his lung and stomach. With the two holding his shoulder and arms, the deer had the perfect angle to stand and deliver a sound kick to the sergal’s head. It muffled any noise or sob he wanted to make, and it dropped his hearing into a distant whistling noise—until that, too was gone. There was a leak of hot blood from his ear too, and it signaled that the blow to his ear had impacted the air in his ear, forcing it back too quickly against his ear drum. It had ruptured it, and the damage of that was now leaking out against the pale fur of his inner ear. 

“Keep him awake,” the deer snapped to the cat, who put his weight on the back of his shoulder to smack the sergal in the back of the head, though his efforts were having increasingly little effect. He’d been hit so much so that it was hard for him to keep conscious, and the deer snarled at this, moving to kick him again in the side with the sharp edges of his hooves, puncturing the skin again and making the sergal exhale sharply as he felt another rip fracture. “Actually, you know what?” the deer muttered, his hands curling into fists. “I’m done here. I’m done with you, you piece of trash.” 

Lifting his hoof, he pulled it upwards to rest fully against the center of the sergals back, pushing him flat against the ground from where he’d still managed to squirm subtly, and he began to push down. Like when he’d busted his balls, he was starting out with gradual pressure and then moved onto it further. There was a groan from the sergal under him as the force increased, and then the subtle snaps of the ribcage under his hoof started. It was like listening to twigs break under pressure from a tree, feeling as pressure on either side of his body started to give way and fold as the sergal’s body was forced into the ground. That wasn’t what he was aiming for, though. 

He finally started to lift his weight up from the other hoof, starting to slam his hoof down with little jerks of his full body weight, until he started to feel the creak of the other’s back. It was motivation, then, and as he kicked his weight entirely off of his other foot, he used the momentum to slam his full force down on the sergal’s back. 

The sergal’s spine snapped finally, the connectors between the different segments of his spine rupturing as the vertebrae disconnected along his spine. The rest of his ribs seemed to give way in the process, completely flattening out part of his chest. The shattering of his spine and the sudden force on his chest went straight to the sergal’s heart, and within seconds, his other lung had collapsed, and the sergal prayed a sharp cough of blood as the remnants of his punctured lung emptied onto the ground next to his face. The deer could feel the way the sergal’s fluttering heart stopped finally to a slow, sluggish beat, and then ceased entirely under the force of his hoof. It took him a moment to make sure that the chest didn’t try to rise or fall in any more weak, shaking breaths, and a surge of anger flooded through him as he realized that the sergal was in fact gone.

“Shithead,” the deer snapped, pulling his hoof back to move to the sergals head again, pushing the cat out of the way as the deer lifted his hoof once more. The wolf and cat backed off, realizing that the sergal was dead, and knowing that there was nothing else they could do to him at that point that would matter. For now, they’d just have to wait until the deer was done working out his anger, which would be a few minutes. 

As he stomped down on the dead sergal’s head, he found the sensation unsatisfying, so he kept going. Over and over he pounded the rough surface of his hoof down into the sergal’s skull until he felt it start to crack. Slowly, the fracture started at the very back, where the scrapes still slowly leaked blood from where the cat had scratched it there earlier. He could feel the cracks in the skull start to spread and get worse, beginning to truly start to cave in the back of his skull with each forceful stomp of the hoof, giving a wet, satisfying crunch each time he brought his leg down. It was almost like crushing a pumpkin under foot on a farm, the kind of wild chaos of knowing there was fluid and soft guts on the inside, and knowing he had to break the hard shell on the outside to get inwards. 

He spared no strength again, even if the sergal was long gone. Finally, the skull cracked open, spilling the squishy substance of his brain matter on the inside. The deer continued to stomp downwards, crushing the inside and ultimately beginning to shatter through to the parts of his skull and face under where his head had still been turned down, scattering bits of brain matter and shards of his skull for several feet in a radius around the lax, dead body of the beaten sergal. Only then did the deer stop, catching his breath as he took a step back, before wiping the smear of red against the sergal’s fur, before turning to the cat and his other accomplice. 

“Leave him to the wolves,” he snapped, ignoring the somewhat offended look that the wolf gave him at the casual wording, but they nodded, and moved to follow the deer back to the town.


End file.
